


want

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Brainwashing, Caesar's Legion, Forced Feminization, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mormonism, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Post-Legion Ending, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, beyond caesar having a weird fantasy about daniel, boy am i real sorry about writing this one, i guess?, to be clear aside from a kiss there is no real noncon here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: There is nothing that Edward Sallow has ever loved so much as breaking someone.Even before he was Caesar, he knew there was pleasure to be found in finding the exact combination of things that would perfectly tip someone over the edge, break them without losing their edge. A certain thrill that only feeling the fight completely drained out of a man could give--something only found in glassy eyes.And he will take an exceptional thrill to breaking this missionary, this favorite of his former Legate, this Daniel. What could his Malpais Legate have found so compelling in this bland man?





	want

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't going to post this because i used to have standards but tbh i wrote this as a joke challenge to see the worst content i could create, and boys, i gotta say, "caesar imprisons daniel and has a terrible non-con fantasy about it" is truly up there on the absolutely most cursed things i could ever commit to metaphorical paper.

There is nothing that Edward Sallow has ever loved so much as breaking someone.

Even before he was Caesar, he knew there was pleasure to be found in finding the exact combination of things that would perfectly tip someone over the edge, break them without losing their edge. A certain thrill that only feeling the fight completely drained out of a man could give--something only found in glassy eyes.

And he will take an exceptional thrill to breaking this missionary, this  _ favorite  _ of his former Legate, this  _ Daniel _ . What could his Malpais Legate have found so compelling in this bland man? 

Daniel had a fight in him, a certain fire. It would take more than torture for him to break, but in time, Caesar knew he would yield, like all men did. But in the meantime, what fun Edward would have, picking Daniel apart piece by piece. 

Like he had done to Joshua Graham did once, all those years ago, in the wastes of the desert.

* * *

For the first month, Caesar orders Daniel to be treated as an honored guest. He sleeps in his own tent (guarded, of course) in Caesar’s camp, eats the finest meals, is given his freedom to fill his days with whatever activities he desires.

(This is an old part of the breaking that Caesar knows is critical. Men like Daniel--these good Mormon boys, with their Bibles and naive set of morals--expect to be mistreated, get a perverse pleasure out of dark situations. Edward knows that Joshua will have spoken of the Legion’s cruelties, but did Joshua bother to tell Daniel of its luxuries? Of how the Malpais Legate had taken grand homes for himself, of the feasts and festivals they had hosted?)

Edward knows Daniel will not give him his trust that easily, but he won’t give Daniel what he wants: that epic of slavery and torture that Joshua had fed to his profligate lover, no doubt, never mentioning that Joshua himself had been a willing participant in all of it. No, Daniel will not be a martyr. 

Martyrdom is easy; any man can endure suffering. Few men can endure kindness freely offered from the hand of an enemy. 

Edward counts the days eagerly. 

* * *

In the fourth month of his capture, Daniel tries to escape.

It’s a stupid plan, through and through, clearly the actions of a desperate man--trying to sneak around the Praetorian Guard, as though Caesar’s men wouldn’t recognize Daniel on sight.

This is a good sign, though. It means that Daniel is ready to move on to the next step towards his inevitable break, that the fight in him is still burning strong.

* * *

Daniel is bleeding from his lip when he’s brought before Caesar, a single streak of deep red across his face.

A shame. Edward told the guards to lay as little hand on their guest as possible, but maybe Daniel is simply an easy bleeder. 

Edward brushes his thumb over the split in Daniel’s lip. He has never been terribly interested in men sexually, unlike Joshua, but he can find the appeal in Daniel. Once he’s gotten rid of Daniel’s beard and dressed the man properly, he might even be attractive.

But that’s a thought for another day. 

“The Malpais Legate was one of my finest men,” Edward murmurs, smearing a drop of blood over Daniel’s lip. “When I met him, he was like you... A missionary from New Canaan with a holy text in his hands and an incessant need to try to help. Did he tell you that I corrupted him?”

Daniel recoils, but the bindings the Praetoria have wrapped around his arms and feet keep him from moving too far. “Joshua told me all about you,” he spits. Edward doesn’t take his hand off of Daniel’s face, just continues to worry the calloused pad of his thumb over the cut.

“Did he tell you he denied himself the pleasures of being my Legate? Allow you to think he lived a modest life with a heart full of guilt? Because never once did he refuse any of the luxuries given to a Legionary of high standing. The man had three wives, a massive house in Flagstaff, enjoyed his meals while his slaves starved.” Edward laughs. “The wives, of course, were all for show, but you would know all about that.”

“You don’t know--” Daniel starts, but Edward moves quickly, shoving three of his fingers into Daniel’s mouth to feel him gag, choking around the intrusion. Saliva pools around Edward’s fingers, and when he pulls his fingers back they’re wet. Without hesitation, Edward slaps Daniel across the cheek, hard enough that the rings he wears leave red welts against Daniel’s skin. There’s blood streaking across Daniel’s cheek, and his lip is swollen now, bruised-looking.

“What do I not know, profligate?” rumbles Edward. “That he was a homosexual? I have known him for a decade. I watched him change. I know Joshua Graham better than anyone else ever will.”

That seems to get to Daniel, his face flushing red. Had Joshua fucked him? Fed him lies about regret and shame in the aftermath? 

“Take him to the slave’s quarters. I want him shaved and dressed properly before dinner tonight,” Caesar snarls at one of guards, and leaves abruptly, without a further word to Daniel.

* * *

Humiliation is one of the quickest methods to breaking a man, but it has to be the right sort of humiliation. Shame is not as useful as true demoralization, Caesar has learned, and so he has Daniel treated as he’d treat any of the slave women who come to his harem: bathed, perfumed, and redressed in appropriate attire by her new fellow wives. 

He knows that his women will tell Daniel the same things they’d tell a new girl, how this is the greatest honor anyone of their status could be given, that Caesar takes generous care of his harem as long as they all behave and obey his commands, that Caesar has never hesitated to make a woman pay in blood for stepping out of turn.

Was Joshua a kind lover? Or was he still violently possessive? 

What would taint Daniel’s mind if Edward took his pleasure from him? It was Edward’s right to do whatever he wanted with his slaves. Daniel had gagged so easily around his fingers, and if Caesar’s wives had upheld their duties they’d have taught him better than to struggle. He’d grab Daniel by the hair and hold him steady as he fucked into Daniel’s throat, even as the man coughed and gagged around him. 

Daniel would look so broken, tears involuntarily spilling from his eyes and his split lip bleeding again. Even more so with Edward’s come streaking across his face, when Edward reached up with his thumb to smear it into the blood. 

Joshua had had his fun with Daniel. The Frumentarii were thorough, and it wasn’t like their relationship had been kept a secret. Now Edward would too. 

* * *

Fucking Daniel, Edward has decided, is his next way to break the man. It is not enough to simply have the man as his wife, shaved and humiliated, a fantasy from another man’s life. 

No, he wants to possess Daniel. Edward wants him to look up at him with a blank, pleased expression when he’s been thoroughly used, come splattered across his cheekbones. 

And so he enters his harem, and there is Daniel, manicured as nicely as any of the slave women here. “You may remain seated,” Caesar says dismissively, waving off the slaves’ attempts to stumble to their knees to pay their respects. 

Edward grabs one of the girls by her hair, tilting her head back and checking her over as if he intends to fuck her tonight. She’s still somewhat new to the harem, only nineteen or twenty years of age. 

But slowly he turns to Daniel, sitting on a low lounge with Severina, the longest-serving of his wives. 

It is Caesar’s divine right to take his pleasure from any of his harem.

Edward twines his fingers in Daniel’s hair and watches the man try not to recoil with disgust at the touch. Edward only leers, and bends down to press his mouth to Daniel’s. 

For several seconds, Daniel’s mouth is lax against Edward’s, letting him slide his tongue against the seam of Daniel’s lips. 

The next thing Edward knows is a sharp stinging against his cheekbone. He takes a faltering step backwards and presses his palm to his face. “You insolent whore,” Caesar snarls. 

The rest of the harem have the grace to immediately fall to their knees, their eyes on the floor in supplication, but Daniel simply stares back at Caesar with fire in his eyes. 

“Dianna,” Caesar whispers, straightening his posture and rolling his shoulders back. “How old are you?” 

The girl from earlier looks shocked, raising her face. “Nineteen, Caesar Dictator.”

“You were from Zion, weren’t you? From what tribe?”

“Yes, Caesar Dictator. The Dead Horses, Caesar Dictator.”

There’s a flicker in Daniel’s expression, still confused, but with a dawning horror. 

“Good.” Caesar moves to pull the girl off the floor and into standing. “You will take Hymenaeus’s punishment for him, then.”

“No, don’t—” Daniel immediately starts, but it is too late. Caesar has already struck the girl, her teeth cutting through her lip and leaving her face bloody and red. 

Caesar takes a look around the room in disgust. “You will not have a meal tonight and the slavemaster will issue a formal punishment later. When I next choose to visit you, I will be received as I should be, or I will take all new wives.” 

* * *

The next time Caesar sees Daniel, the man is different. His posture is submissive, and there is a faint tremble in his hands.

Sextus has done good work. A good slavemaster is rare; most are sadists. Few share Edward’s appreciation of truly breaking someone, of erasing them entirely. Sextus is one of those few. He’s served Caesar for nearly two decades now and never once has he let Caesar down. 

“Are you ready now, Hymenaeus?” Caesar murmurs quietly, running his fingers over through Daniel’s hair as the man kneels in front of him. It’s soft and perfumed like the rest of his wives’ hair. 

Daniel looks up at him, tears glittering in his eyes, and he nods even though he looks like he’s going to sob at any second. 

Edward smiles and tightens his fingers’ grip in his hair. “Good. Good boy.” 

He’s always loved breaking men. 

**Author's Note:**

> the title was actually oc for once but ended up being relevant to the song "want" by recoil.


End file.
